


The Cactus Flower Constituency

by OliviaPendleton



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connorliterallycan'tstopdrinkingdisinfectant, Crime Fighting, Crime Scenes, Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Gen, Murder Mystery, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Science Fiction, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24274096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliviaPendleton/pseuds/OliviaPendleton
Summary: Connor is six feet tall, six months old, and desperate to connect.  Hank Anderson projects too much, drinks too much, and pushes away far too often. They both try to jump through the awkward hoops of self identity and grief, failing a remarkable ninety-nine percent of the time. Gavin Reed never wanted to be thrown into this mess either, but after a serious reprimand from Captain Fowler he's being forced to team up with an alcoholic who has the emotional capacity of an infant and a robot that just learned how to have a personality.Add a genocidal serial killer, hellbent on the eradication of android-kind and you've got yourself a party.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, father/son - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 75





	1. The Confusing Correlation Between Androids and Analogies.

**_Beans are to coffee as humans are to cactus flowers._ **

**_Stamps are to envelopes as boarding school acceptance letters are to poor British children._ **

**_Keys are to locks as clues are to analysis._**

“Connor, what the fuck are you doing? We have a case to solve.” Anderson catechized him with the same grouchy, yet nonchalant disposition he had become accustomed too. One that only a weathered officer could manage. The android responded without glancing up from his legal pad, “I’m writing analogies, Lieutenant. I thought that maybe if I could develop a firm grasp on them, then it would help me better understand the killer’s modus operandi.” Hank leaned farther back into his swivel chair, his eyes unwavering and his arms crossed.

“You write in Times New Roman?”

“Yes. I’ve found that it is known for being easy on the eyes.”

There was an ungainly silence passing between the both of them. Connor’s LED spun gold while he focused on the blue ink drying upon his page. If the older man sitting at the desk across from him also possessed an LED it would likely be working in a similar caliber. Eyeballing an anomaly from behind his coffee mug required careful anatomization. “Does this sound correct Lieutenant Anderson?” He handed the pad over to his partner, lacking self awareness regarding his own bizzarity. “You’re a supercomputer but you don’t understand how analogies work?” Hank raised a grey eyebrow with clear skepticism scrawled across his features.

“It's never been relevant knowledge. I could easily download the information, but… I thought I’d try to learn the manual way.”

“Why?”

“It seemed like a fun challenge.”

“Analogies aren’t… Nevermind.”

“Do you understand them?”

“Well, the last one makes sense. The rest of this doesn’t mean jack shit to me, kid. How in the hell are humans anything like cactus flowers?”

Connor considered explaining to his friend about how humanity was beautiful to observe from an outside perspective, but prickly to get close too. About how it was quite easy to yearn for the seemingly universal connection that mankind shared with one another. About how it was kind of like an exclusive club that had a sign on the door with, ‘red blood only!’ transcribed in blue. Things had elapsed slightly since Markus’s speech and President Warren’s regard but there still seemed to be a way to go. It was a good thing that androids had an autonomous battery that wouldn’t expire for about two centuries, because historically that’s how long it seemed to take for men to make up their mind about things.

Instead Connor shrugged silently, “It makes sense to me.”

“You should work on it some more.” His companion tossed the legal pad back to him and stood up to embark on a journey towards the Keurig.

“Wait-”

Anderson turned to glance back at him.

“How about this one?” Connor grinned cheekily.

**_A bee is to honey as Lieutenant Anderson is to malt liquor._ **

“Oh, piss off Connor.” 

Despite his words, there was a small smile tugging at his lips.

Things had been functioning this way for roughly six months now. A sardonic remark from Connor received a prideful response from Anderson, and fewer cultural references fell on deaf ears. The other members of the DPD hadn’t exactly felt warm enough to throw a ‘Welcome to the Force!’ party or anything, but it never hurt anybody’s feelings. If anything, Connor had only become more off-putting to his coworkers. It turns out that sampling random substances around the office to recite their components and offering your views on the harsh reality of capitalism typically harbored that effect on people. On a good day he dressed like John Mulaney and every other day after that he dressed vaguely like Hyde from _That 70’s Show_. Connor had really attempted to form a personality of his own instead of adapting to the personas of those around him and nobody despised it more than Gavin Reed. That of course only fueled him to want to stand out as much as possible at work. His search for individuality knew no bounds. So much so, that every time Gavin was forced to approach him his stress levels sky-rocketed to an impressive 90%! Connor had come to the conclusion that this was because Gavin had a disease usually referred to as Toxic Masculinity. A very dangerous and highly contagious ailment that made him feel inferior to any man stronger and more capable than he was. In other terms, it made him feel like _a_ _Beta Male_. Logically then, this strange sense of discomfort must be attributed to the fact that Detective Reed saw Connor as _an Alpha Male._ He hadn’t shared this theory with anybody besides Hank yet, who thought it was so comical that he even gave him a pat on the back. From then on out, Connor decided that he would try even harder to provoke that type of reaction from his companion. Making others laugh in a social setting brought on a feeling of accomplishment.

Anderson finally returned to his desk with a cup of dark roast and a bagel.

“That’s the third one today Lieutenant. If you continue to consume more carbohydrates than your body requires I’ll be forced to confiscate the box.”

Hank rolled his eyes and took a spiteful bite, “I’m a grown man. I can do what I want.”

The door to Fowler’s office swung open and he stepped out halfway, shouting from his elevated, glass box of lectures, “Hank! Connor! Get in here!” 

“Ah, shit.” Throwing his bagel down on the napkin and taking one last swig of coffee, the Lieutenant got up yet again with a sigh. 

Connor removed himself from the ‘criss cross applesauce’ position and followed behind leisurely.

Once they reached the interior of the glass box, Hank plopped down on a chair adjacent from their supervisors desk. It was one of those brown leather ones with the stupid studs that ran up the arm rests and left indentions in your flesh. The kind of seat you would find in the waiting room of an accountants office. That was something that Anderson knew more about than Connor, considering the guy could do taxes in his head. Maybe next year he would ask Connor to do his too and save himself the money.

“We just got word that there was another android homicide over on Farmington.” Fowler stated, tossing his tablet down in front of the terminal on his desk. He raised his arms up and placed them behind his head, revealing rather large sweat stains. It made sense considering the central cooling went out yesterday and nobody had come around to deal with it yet.

“Why didn't the report immediately transfer through to me, Captain?” The android questioned, hoping there wasn’t something wrong with him in the realm of communication. Spare parts were hard to come by these days and major operations for an RK800 were non-existent.

“Because we officially think we have a serial killer on our hands, boys. There was another analogy at the crime scene. Motherfucker thinks he's a poet or some shit.” 

The only LED in the room flashed yellow. 

“I knew we’d be seeing more of that guy.” Hank grumbled somewhat disappointedly. The Lieutenant always seemed frustrated when the crime rates spiked or when he was faced with anything at all that reflected how the world around him was falling into decay. Connor wasn’t exactly sure why a man who wanted to cling on to high hopes for society decided to become a cop in the first place. It was a disheartening line of work. It made him wonder rather or not he himself would still work for the DPD if he had ever been given the choice. It made him wonder in general about the end of this civilization and rather or not it would be brought on by the androids. The abstraction made him feel a little bit sick.

“Killers involved in isolated incidents don’t often choose to leave a message behind for the police.” The brunette confirmed, somewhere off in thought now.

“Does this mean that the case is ours?”

“Nah, I dragged you in here because I was gonna give it Collins. The fuck do you think?” Fowler stated deadpan.

Connor frowned visibly. He decided that sarcasm was less amusing when he wasn’t the one providing it. Hank also didn’t seem to be nearly as impressed when it was coming out of somebody else’s mouth, which felt strangely encouraging.

**_Digging is to Sumo, as being a dickhead is to Captain Fowler?_ **

Did that one count? It sounded relatively clunky to Connor but he supposed it would do for now. They made their way back down to the bullpen and decided to collect their things before heading out.


	2. Slasher Flicks

There were few remnants of the past left remaining in Detroit and Farmington Hills was no exception. A technological renovation had brushed past the skyscrapers, the small businesses, all the way down to the benches sitting curbside. A futuristic summer approached the city violently and melted away the dinge and the empty syringes lying in the gutters. Hank had watched it all wash away over the years. No matter how polished, or how ideal it all seemed though, the junkie’s were still taking shelter under bypasses and the kids were still dropping out of high school at alarming rates. Crime and poverty never wavered; it didn’t matter how bright the sun gleamed off Kamski’s hot, metallic roofing.

Around a quarter to ten, Lieutenant Anderson’s Buick Lesabre cruised around the street corner. Red and blue lights reflected against the wet, evening pavement and inside the eyes of bystanders and reporters. 

“They did a shit job of roping off the crime scene. Reed must be working tonight.” Hank opined before leaning over the console to grab his gloves out of the compartment.

“Lieutenant, watch out for that drink.”

His deterrent was caught too late though and the Styrofoam cup, leaning half-way out of it’s holder, tumbled pointlessly to the floor of Anderson’s car. A fair bit of the purple liquid splashed back in retribution over the two men in the front seat. “Goddammit, this sucks….” Hank swore, aggravation obvious. “Connor! What the fuck have I told you about bringing drinks into the car? You don’t need to sample everything!” Hank sat still for a minute with his hands lifted a tad in the, ‘what the hell do I do now?’ position. Connors expression was immensely kindred to that as he unbuckled and scavenged around the backseat for a towel or something to dry the pair off with.

“Perhaps if you hadn't taken my coin from me on the way over my senses would be fully calibrated, and I could have caught the drink in time.” He vindicated himself with a smart alec tone. The kind of voice somebody might use to disregard a particularly stern lecture. 

Anderson only rolled his eyes at the remark, “You’re an ass sometimes.” Connors brow knitted in befuddlement.

**_Saltwater is to the ocean as trash is to the Lieutenant's car._ **

Connor would seriously have to consider giving this vehicle a deep clean on his next day off.

After attaining a shirt from the back, the android promptly handed it over to his friend to use as a washcloth. “I am sorry for the spill, Lieutenant. I’ll refrain from bringing liquids into your car from now on.” He ended the altercation with a little sincerity, as he shifted his stare towards Hank. In turn, Anderson seemed to be gazing back at him, moderate resignation taking up residence across his face. Finally releasing a sigh, he shrugged. “Ah, it’s not really that big of a deal. Can’t make this shithole much worse. Say, what was in that cup anyways?” He asked, suddenly realizing how _alarmingly fresh_ the stuff was making his car smell. “Hold the fuck up for a second…” Hank appeared to be bewildered.

“Is that-”

“Pine Sol?” Connor completed the statement, “Yes, Lieutenant. Yes it is.”

“What the hell, kid? You can’t just go around sticking fucking disinfectant in your mouth! Shit could be flammable!”

Realistically, Connor could stick anything he wanted in his mouth, as long as it wasn’t going to burn holes through the layers of hard plastic and metal that shielded his bio-components. He even possessed a small reservoir in his core that could contain up to a liter of fluid; this function proved to be useful whenever he was called to go undercover as a human. A definite drawback of this feature though, was the process it took to drain the liquid out of his system. It required removing the synthetic skin on his abdomen and sort of flipping him over like he was a Cooler full of melted ice. Very undignified to say the least. 

With total disregard to that fact though, Connor regularly took it upon himself to drink bleach, _Fabuloso_ , _Dawn Dishwashing Liquid_ , and even some _Febreze_. After a while he discovered that his favorite scent was _Hawaiian Aloha_. 

Every time he breathed inside the precinct it cycled the aroma through the air. His fellow coworkers would say things like, “Do you smell that? It smells so good in here! Where’s that coming from?” He had avoided this practice recently though, because last time he stood up and very loudly announced, “I am releasing an invigorating tropical scent from my mouth! I am so pleased to hear that it suits your tastes!” and he was met with heavy criticism.

After attempting to clean up what they could, they decided to get to work.

Hank shook his head, clearly feeling worn already, and stepped out of the car. Connor followed behind him in a timely fashion. Near the alleyway, an older officer named Nora Ledford was waiting for them just behind the caution tape, a clipboard in her hands. On the stroll down, frenzied news outlets attempted to prod everyone for further questioning.

“Could this be considered a hate crime?”

“Can you confirm rather or not this murder is connected to the incident from last week?”

“Will android death tolls continue to rise?”

They were all promptly disregarded in the DPD’s wake. Ledford shouted and shifted all of her weight to one hip, “Well if it isn’t America’s favorite buddy cop duo!”

“In the flesh.” Hank remarked as he ambled closer. Her eyes darted to Connor and she spoke quite absently, “Yeah… In the flesh.” The only thing he had to offer in response was an awkward, well-meant smile which was not completely returned. Connor thought that being social was surprisingly difficult for an android that had been designed with human compatibility in mind. Although in actuality, it had little to do with him. Nora wasn’t necessarily against the revolution or what it stood for, but she still had trouble masking the uncanny valley grip that Connor’s smile held on her.

“Victim’s name?” Anderson asked, sounding relatively disinterested.

“Her name was Heather Liberty and she was some kind of AX model. We won’t really be able to tell for sure until her serial number’s been put through the database.” Ledford said, beginning to walk them through the scene.

 _Liberty_. Hank thought dejectedly, the irony of it all making his mouth dry. “What a fucking shame…” Androids had been legally registering their new names for months now, most of them retiring the ones they’d been given. It made sense considering the fact that their previous owners had a tendency to name them some pretty degrading shit. Hank felt reminded of the American Civil War’s aftermath. Slaves throwing away their old names in favor of new ones, often Biblical ones. They chose the surnames of past presidents. Lincoln here, Washington there.

Once they had finally made it to the subject in question, Connor felt his whole body tense. The vacant spot in his throat had been replaced with a lump that made him feel as if he could choke at any second. His legs had been reduced to nothing but jelly and he hated every moment he was being subjected to it.

“Holy shit….” The Lieutenant’s mouth fell open partially, and he struggled to maintain eye contact with the grisly, slasher flick that colored the concrete blue. Hank hated the idea of that being what Connor also looked like on the inside.

Every one of Heather’s appendages had been carved off her torso with what was probably a circular saw. Patches of synthetic skin had worn away into slick ivory and her face was completely frozen in agony. It was likely the expression she had died with. Above the dumpster, another analogy had been scrawled across the brick in thirium.

**_Heather is to scrap metal as humans are to dust_**.

Connor swallowed hard on nothing and tried not to notice the varying postures that her wires had gotten stuck in. The ones that poked from her arm sockets were stiff and prickly. Like a cactus. The thin metallic threads in her gut seemed more flimsy, like innards. They roughly resembled strands of hair. 

Nora frowned deeply at the sight and fixed her gaze downwards to the pavement, only looking up to watch the android make his move. Connor bent down to the asphalt and studied the serial number on her cheek with a reserved stance. “She was an AX 400.” His voice didn’t really sound like his own, if anything it was less pronounced and neurotic. 

Hank immediately took note of this, and grabbed Connor by the upper arm, pulling him to his feet. “You alright, Connor?” It was unusual to see the kid perturbed by a corpse, but it seemed more understandable in light of his newly found deviance. Connor had never seen anything like this before and it irked him. Even when he glanced away, her hollow eye sockets remained imprinted into his mind palace.

“I’m fine, Lieutenant. I’m just... trying to determine what would be the most efficient method of analyzing her.” Hank instantly called bullshit but decided not to speak on it. Instead he released Connor from his grip and kept a watchful eye on him. Gauged his expressions. “Listen, if you want to go back to the car I can finish up here with Ledford. It seems pretty straightforward anyways.” Gradually the brunette shook his head before deciding to speak up, “No, Lieutenant Anderson. It’s okay. I assure you I have everything under control...”

“Can you reconstruct what happened?” Nora interjected suddenly. She recognized her silence and decided to break it in an effort to feel more comfortable. Connor tried to clear his mind before realizing it would be entirely for naught anyways. “No... Unfortunately I can not. This isn’t where the murder took place so I don’t have enough clues to form a reconstruction. Heather was dumped here after her dismemberment.” 

Hank grimaced at that thought, his eyes still focused on the remains. “Well, then that would mean she was kidnapped. We should try to look more into that. It’s probably in a spot close to where the scumbag lives.”

Nora released the death grip she had been holding on her clipboard, and said, “Well she worked at a 24/7 diner down the block. That would be a good place to start. You’d also probably be able to find out more about her.” Connor nodded slightly in agreement; getting out of this place seemed like a stupendous idea. “You’re right. If we can gather enough information about Heather we can compare it to what we know about our last victim. Maybe the perpetrator has a type.” Anderson glanced at Connor again to make sure he was still holding up.

“Well then what are we waiting for, let’s get out of here.”

The pair turned to leave but Nora stopped them, “Fair warning guys, Gavin’s probably down there right now. After securing the area he went to grab a bite.” This ignited some sort of angry, garbled noise from Lieutenant Anderson. Connor was very familiar with the sound and thought it was uncanny to the one a Keurig makes after it's finished brewing coffee. “Fucking Reed. I knew he’d been here as soon as I noticed that the caution tape was to shit. How the hell does he have the stomach to eat after seeing some bullshit like this….”


	3. Bumps, Bruises, and Cracked Micro-lattice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids  
> In fact it's cold as hell  
> And there's no one there to raise them if you did
> 
> And all this science, I don't understand  
> It's just my job five days a week  
> A rocket man, a rocket man"
> 
> -Rocket Man, by Elton John  
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey Connor, catch.”

Without missing a beat, the android turned around to see Lieutenant Anderson tossing his coin back to him, and caught it with stupefying accuracy between his middle and index fingers.

“Thank you.”

“Recalibration, my ass.”

Connor grinned while rolling the silver across his knuckles.

Autonomous buses were reaching the end of their routes and the night was uniquely quiet for the city of Detroit. Hank picked up the pace just enough to sync his walk up with the spaced out android. After a lengthy interval of quiet, Connor tilted his head leftwards in curiosity. “You keep staring at me Lieutenant. Is there a problem?” The head cock made Hank snort because it reminded him of Sumo. “Nah, I was just making sure you were alright, that’s all. You looked pretty shook up back there.”

“Oh.”

Connor seemed genuinely surprised for a moment that Anderson had offered a blatant form of concern for him. It made Hank feel fairly guilty. They were only a little ways away from the diner by this point.

“No, no. I’m perfectly fine. It was just quite, erm, shocking I suppose?” He lied through his teeth, and refocused his attention on springing the coin between his palms.

“Ah, I see.” Hank’s voice beveled upwards, flowing freely with wiseacre undertones. “So seeing that girl’s dismembered body lying next to that dumpster didn’t bother you at all?”

“Oh, look Lieutenant we’re here.” He motioned towards the entrance of a little restaurant, not unlike a Waffle House. He slipped his coin into the pocket of his jeans and pretended like he hadn’t just been deflecting.

Hank narrowed his eyes in speculation but chose not to push the matter any further. Afterall, he remembered the first time he was faced with a crime scene like that. His superiors tried to pry the truth out of him but the last thing he wanted was to seem like he couldn’t handle a little blood. Maybe Connor feared inadequacy.

They brushed through the doors and were instantly hit by a gush of cool air from the AC. Summers in Michigan were never particularly scorching but the concrete jungle always made it feel hotter than it was. Besides that, try telling a local that eighty degrees isn’t hot and see what happens.

A quick sweep around the area and Connor realized that Detective Reed was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he was in the restroom or outside smoking a cigarette somewhere. Music thrummed from an electronic jukebox near the window. The song was _Rocket Man_ by Elton John, and Connor sang along to the lyrics loosely. That provoked an impressed reaction from Hank. “You like this song?” He asked out of curiosity. The other man nodded, “Oh, I’m a huge fan of Elton John, Lieutenant. I’ve committed his entire discography to memory.”

Anderson looked like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information but appreciated it nonetheless. “Eh, it’s not quite my style but a classic is a classic. I like some of the guy’s songs.” He continued towards the counter but then halted to give Connor another glance. “Next thing I know, you’re gonna tell me you’re into David Bowie.”

He only simpered, “ _This is Major Tom to ground control, I’m stepping through the door._ ”

“Huh, well how about that.”

A woman emerged from a backroom, presumably a manager’s office and situated herself in front of the register. “Anything I can get you two tonight?” She beamed. Her name tag said Rebecca even though it did not really suit her hardened, truck driver-esque appearance. Connor quickly scanned her face to find out that she was fifty-four, a year older than Hank, and had no criminal record besides speeding. Her last name was also Newman. If he had more time he might actually have pried a bit further to find out if she really had ever been a truck driver. It felt good to be right about things.

“Uhh, we’re looking for information on an android that went missing about a week ago. Her name was Heather Liberty and she worked here.” Hank had obviously avoided telling the woman about what had really happened and Connor felt uneasy about the premise. Luckily though, the body had only been found an hour or two ago so it was unlikely that anybody close to her was aware yet. Connor recognized how awful it was to use the word, ‘luckily’ to describe that situation. He searched the dining room for any televisions but there weren’t any. Even if there had been, the story probably wouldn’t be released until tomorrow morning anyways.

“You with the DBD?” She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Hank took his badge out of his breast pocket to show her and Connor did the same.“Hmm…” Her eyes lingered on them for longer than was necessary before finally commenting. “Yeah, Heather’s a sweet kid. Like my own daughter.”

Hank shifted his gaze side-ways in thought and replied with a faraway, “I see.” Connor would have spent more time analyzing his partner’s expression but he himself also seemed to be contemplating the notion that a human could ever feel that way for an android. It seemed reasonably nice in his head.

“Did Heather happen to live nearby?”

“Yeah, over in those apartment buildings a few blocks down. She walked to work and usually worked night shifts. I always tried to tell her that she didn’t have too… That she could clock in, in the morning but it was always the same. She’d say, ‘No Becca, I don’t have to sleep, so if I can make it easier on you then I will.’” Rebecca’s brow furrowed and she leaned her elbows down on the counter. “Listen, if you want to talk to the person that saw her last then that’s Robbie. He usually comes in around twelve. If you don’t wanna wait then he’ll still be here until ten A.M.” Hank shrugged, “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Hand me a menu.” Rebecca smiled with her lips tightly pressed together and handed him one. “Go find a seat and Harper will be around to take your order in a bit.” The sides of Connor’s mouth slanted downwards. “Lieutenant… It’s very late at night. Don’t you think it would be a better idea to return tomorrow?

“What? You tired or something?”

“You know that I don’t get-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

He strolled over to a booth in the back and plopped down. Connor went along after him, sitting adjacent. “All I am saying is that if you don’t get the required amount of sleep that a human needs to function you’ll be incredibly unpleasant tomorrow.” Hank chuckled and scoured the laminated pages for something that sounded good. “I’m ‘incredibly unpleasant’ everyday if you couldn’t tell.”

Connor couldn’t argue with that logic so he switched up his approach. “Sleep deprivation shortens your lifespan and doubles your risk of cardiovascular disease. That combined with your poor diet is a trip to the hospital just waiting to happen.” Hank just grinned again, “Yeah, probably.”

Connor was confused as to why all humans had some type of suicidal agenda. At least the Lieutenant had stopped playing with revolvers.

Speaking of suicidal agendas, Gavin Reed finally made his appearance, sauntering through the door with a pack of cigarettes in his back pocket. The android’s assumption had been correct. As soon as he spotted the both of them, he snickered with that absolutely appalling smile. The one that made Hank scowl with an, “Ah, fuck.” whenever he wittnessed it. “Maybe if we ignore him then he’ll piss off.” Anderson raised his menu up high enough to block Gavin from his field of vision. Of course, it didn’t even put a dent into Reed’s constant need to start trouble. That was the difference between them. They were both belligerent men but Gavin looked for fights, whereas fights looked for Hank.

Mr. Five-o-clock Shadow instantly made a bee-line to their table and said, “Scoot over, Ken doll.” Fixing his stare on Connor with no signs of compromising. “Listen, you’re gonna have to find a different seat before things get nasty...” Hank leaned back and glared at Gavin, more annoyed than anything.

Connor refused to budge or even make eye contact, ignoring him like he was told. “Can you not hear me or something Detective Dipshit?” This remark forced him to turn his head right-wards. “I was specifically instructed by the Lieutenant to ignore you, in hopes that you would eventually, and I quote, ‘piss off’.” Hank smiled faintly, something like pride bubbling up in his chest.

“Oh is that right?”

“That’s right.”

Gavin made a total stinkface, stole a chair from another table, and then proceeded to carry it back to Hank and Connor. After he sat down, the pair exchanged exasperated glances because they knew he was holding them hostage, likely to subjugate them to nefarious levels of bullshit. Soon he opened his mouth again, eyes set on the brunette that was fidgeting with a coin under the table. “So this is what passes for a cop today, huh…?”

As painful as it was to admit, Hank actually understood what he had been referring too. Today was a Steven Hyde day. The tacky jean vest, the striped button up. It was a lot to look at. Anderson had even suggested that perhaps he should wear a denim jacket and a T-shirt or something like that, but no. The answer was no and Hank had decided a while back that Connor should be allowed to figure these things out for himself.

Gavin was still sitting there, shit eating grin on his face and awaiting a response. “What? You go silent again plastic?”

Connor blinked unknowingly. “I’ve been told before that I’m one of the most efficient members of the homicide division. Captain Fowler has been considering promoting me to the rank of Lieutenant. Second in command preceding Lieutenant Anderson, obviously.” That comment, unintentionally smug, must have lit a fire up Gavin’s ass because he sneered openly, “A fucking Lieutenant? I’ve been slaving away to that motherfucker for years and robo-infant here walks in and takes the spot within half a goddamn year!” His eyes flashed to Hank in rageful bewilderment, who only offered a small shrug and grin in return. “What would that make him, Hank? The youngest Lieutenant in Detroit? You cracked down hard on the red ice ring! You worked hard as hell, and now you’re fine with this guy just taking your title! He’s like six months old, for Christ's sake!”

“Does my masculine energy really intimidate you that much Detective Reed? I promise that your short stature has little to do with your inner worth.”

"I'm five nine, dickhead! That's average!"

"And I'm six foot, but who's counting?"

“What did you just say to me...?” Danger encroached the other detective's tone as he slowly raised to his feet, towering over the offender. With a sudden jerk, he grabbed Connor up by his shirt. 

Hank was out of his seat in an instant, hands slammed down on the table and staring intently at Gavin, “That’s enough!”

Harper, the aforementioned waitress from before looked stunned as she came out from behind the bar. She was twenty-two by Connor’s estimation and strawberry blonde. He would have scanned her to find out the actual logistics but he didn’t have the time because Gavin Reed had just attempted to throw a punch at him. Ducking quickly and using his body weight, he managed to ram the detective backwards.

Gavin stumbled for a moment before grabbing Connor by his shirt once again and slamming him back against the bar counter. It was at times like this that he wished Cyberlife had bothered to make him a little harder to lift. “Get the hell off him!” Hank spat, wrestling Reed away from the android via his upper arms. Flailing like a whiny toddler, Gavin managed to kick off Connor’s gut and throw Hank’s back against the corner of a booth.

At this point, Harper had ran back to presumably get Rebecca. Connor took the advantage and belted his opponent in the nose, cartilage and bone crunching against his fist. Everybody halted instantly and Gavin looked genuinely shocked by the blood flowing down his chin. “You… You broke my fucking nose…” Suddenly fearful, Connor backed away from the situation. Hank on the other hand, still feeling ornery as all hell, pushed Detective Reed forward despite his injury. He turned quickly to pull one over on the old guy, but was instantly met by backlash from the android.

“I apologize for my insubordinate behavior Gavin, but I will undoubtedly kick your ass into the next dimension if you attempt to harm my partner in any shape or form.” Having said that, he elbowed him in his rib to pry him away. The man let out a pained grunt before being met with two sharp punches to his left eye. Gavin was seething like a rabid dog at this point. Withdrawing his gun from it's holster, he fired a shot at Connor's elbow.

A sickening crack pervaded the air and the android drew a sharp breath between his teeth. Before Gavin even had the chance to react accordingly, Hank's gun was waving around wildly in his face. "Don't you dare fucking move!" He snarled, spit flying like a loose cannon. 

Slowly, Anderson moved towards Connor, not taking his glare off the other man all the while. "Connor... Kid, you alright?" Hank slid up to the brunette. There was a dark urgency to his tone. 

“Alright, that’s enough, get the hell out of my diner! This isn’t a damn pub! Go fight somewhere else! Waving your fucking guns around, wondering who's is bigger! Get the hell out!” Rebecca was blood red with fury, standing with her hands on her hips. The three men looked up at her, clearly disoriented.

Reed's head whipped around the diner, gathering the facial expressions of those around him.

"You got fucking lucky again, boys."

He flipped a bird at them on his way out. _Classy._

Hank gripped the limp appendage and eyed it over with careful consideration. "Dammit, I... I should have been faster. I'm sorry Connor..."

He seemed disgruntled and confused as to why the Lieutenant was taking on the blame. "No, Hank... You couldn't have prevented this. It's fine, I just... "

 _Hank._ It was weird to hear.

"What's wrong?"

"We have a bigger problem."


	4. Teamwork Makes the Dream Work, Apparently.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: I hate having to add these so I truly apologize! I changed a few details regarding Connor's injury in the last chapter, so I suggest checking those out if you feel lost. It's nothing huge or anything though. I just had a better idea and wanted to improve upon the chapter, that's all.

There was little evidence to support the theory that androids could experience psychological shock in the same way that humans do. Heart pounding, stiffness, despondency. It wasn’t something a machine could physically imitate in good truth. Instead they usually turned to desperation, like in the case of Carlos Ortiz. They might attempt to separate themselves from the source of distress, like that AX400. 

_They reacted._

Connor was dealing with his stress by abstaining. Simply by doing nothing at all. It was undoubtedly giving Hank a bad case of the creeps.

“You haven’t said a word all morning and it’s starting to freak me the hell out, Connor. You got an error or something?”

“I talked just a little while ago.” 

He sat completely motionless, his chest devoid of rise and fall. If he at least attempted to breathe it might make Hank feel slightly more comfortable. Less like he was driving around with a dead body in the passenger’s seat. 

“You still reeling from what happened last night with Gavin?”

“No.”

Naturally, Connor was bluffing. The incident had consumed his thoughts ever since the car ride home. It followed him down the hall and ate at him while Hank rummaged through his closet to find an arm sling. After all the lights went out, he sat alone in the living room with a gallon of _Clorox_ in one hand and _I Think I’m Gonna Kill Myself_ by Elton John playing on repeat. He was being, in basic terms, a drama queen.

It was difficult for him to try and rationalize his predicament. Logically, Gavin Reed should not have been able to draw and fire his gun faster than Connor had time to neutralize him. He glanced down at his coin, lying dormant in the cup holder. It made him frown. 

“Oh, you and me both know that’s some bullshit, kid. You don't always have to deflect, you know.” Hank’s eyes were narrowed. His voice always sounded the way that sandpaper felt. Connor finally moved a muscle, craning his head around to observe the older man beside him. “Then why do you always do it?”

That retort was _not_ rewarded with a warm chuckle or friendly pat on the back. “Fuck you Connor, this isn’t about me right now, this is about you.” 

  
  


His eyes scoured the area for something to change the subject over. Hank had a gas station coffee in his left hand. “I just noticed you’re drinking coffee Lieutenant. Do you take it with milk and cream? It’s absolutely fascinating to me how underappreciated the pasteurization process is! Nobody realizes how privileged they are to be allowed to enjoy dairy without contracting a deadly disease.”

“You know what? Fine, Connor. If you wanna keep everything inside then go for it. You’re a free man now, right? Do what you want.”

Internalizing and avoiding conflict seemed to be a recurring trend with Lieutenant Anderson, and even though it wasn’t healthy, he remained free from backlash in regards to it. So why then, was it so different for Connor to use the same mechanism? Perhaps Hank’s behavior was not the prime example of how to deal with all of his newfound emotions, but it wasn’t like they made handbooks for this. ‘ _Congrats on your Sentience! Here are Ten Ways to Deal with Your Feelings, Since your Only Role Model is a Fifty-Three Year Old Alkie with Deep-Rooted, Psychological Trauma!’_

When they got home, maybe he would check online for self-help books.

Connor reverted back to his antisocial state and continued scanning the faces of pedestrians that passed by. They were supposed to be waiting for Robbie to leave his shift at the diner so that they could discuss Heather with him. The only thing was that they had to avoid Rebecca, the truck-driver lady, from spotting them.

“I wish we hadn’t got kicked out. I could really go for some breakfast right now.” Hank muttered in an attempt to break through the veil of dead air. “There should be a granola bar in your pocket if you’re feeling peckish.”

“ _You snuck a granola bar in my pocket?”_

“I figured that you’d be hungry right about this time.”

Anderson sat still with his hands gripped around the steering wheel for a few seconds, clearly in thought. “Uhh, thanks…” He was somewhat touched by this, but as soon as he pulled the granola bar out all sentiment died, “Dammit, Connor… It’s one of the _Nature Valley_ ones. They’re like rock.” The android shifted his body around towards Hank and sighed deeply, “I thought _you liked_ those.”

“ _No, I like Quaker Oat.”_

Connor seemed incredibly frustrated by that and Hank couldn’t possibly fathom why. “Listen, it’s not that big a deal. Just, uhh, thanks son.” It slipped out of his mouth so casually that he had even surprised himself. Obviously the term of endearment had struck something with Connor too, because he sat and pondered it for a while. Oddly enough, it tugged at his chest; trying to draw a confession from him. Peeling his eyes away from the sidewalks, he refocused his attention on his dead arm, limply hanging in the blue sling.

“Hank, I..”

Instantly, Anderson’s gaze flickered to the android who appeared to be struggling with something. It was hard to define from an outside perspective. “What’s wrong, Connor?” After a few more minutes of uncomfortable lull, he finally decided on an approach, “I should have been able to stop Gavin before he injured my left arm, Lieutenant.” Hank’s brow furrowed, as if to say, ‘really?’

“That’s what’s got you all emo? If you’re upset that you couldn’t dodge a bullet at point blank range then-”

“I was built with durability in mind, _Hank_ . Capable of walking away from a car crash, guns still blazing. I should have been able to predict what Detective Reed’s next move was _but I failed._ The only reasonable explanation is that something is wrong with me.” He legitimately looked distraught, regardless of rather or not he cared to admit it.

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” Connor shook his head disappointedly, before proceeding to pull a flask out of his blazer. The second he unscrewed the cap, a pleasant lemony scent permeated the car. “You should roll down your window, Lieutenant. Humans have a tendency to get woozy and pass out when they inhale sodium hypochlorite.” This sort of thing had become routine for Hank, so all he did was grumble a little and ventilate the car. “It’s simple. You two were fighting and he played dirty. I seriously doubt that Reed has what it takes to best a fucking android in arm to arm combat… Besides…”

“Besides what?” Connor was mulling over the facts in his head. It wasn’t as if he was _trying_ to injure Gavin to any serious degree, ( _even though he really wanted too!_ ) If anything, he had been exercising a serious amount of control over the situation. The last thing he wanted to do was accompany his arch nemesis to the hospital. Hank opened his mouth to complete the sentence but was interrupted again. “I really didn’t mean to cause him any serious harm. I don’t know my own strength sometimes, and I guess in the end, I really didn’t know his either.”

“ _Connor,_ he pulled out a gun on you. He was desperate. The prick didn’t want to have to walk out of there feeling like he had the smaller dick, so he shot. It’s exactly like you said, he’s just insecure.”

“What? The smaller-?”

“It’s an expression.”

Connor took another swig, looking a lot like a washed up child actor. “I just feel…” He sighed heavily, “Like I wasn’t performing optimally. That’s all.” 

_Connor feared inadequacy._

Hank pulled out the zippo from his jacket and struck a cigarette. He puffed away and tried to consider what might sound comforting to an android. “When we take you to the doctor, engineer, whatever the hell it is that you need… We’ll have them check out the rest of you, okay? But Connor-?” The brunette leaned further back into the carseat, if he was lucky the leather would swallow him whole. “Yes…?”

“You’re being dramatic as hell. Think about it. You’ve spent the last half year taking bullet holes, jumping on trains, and using that robot brain of yours until it's fried. Of course you’re gonna need a little upkeep.” He hoped that he was making Connor feel better. Despite his best attempts, comforting others wasn’t something that came easy to him. It required emotional availability in return, and Hank didn’t really like to share those parts of himself. 

The Lieutenant flicked the ashes off his cigarette into one of those super old ashtrays. The tall ones that only old guys used. Connor reached over and put the cherry out with his fingers; the fire died and smoke drifted from the ass out the window. “Hey, what the fuck, kid!” Anderson chided in annoyance. “Smoking can kill you, Lieutenant.” As a final, ‘fuck you’ he also confiscated the pack, slipping them into his front pocket. Hank rolled his eyes at this, “I don’t know any other ways to tell you this, but I’m a grown ass man. If I want to smoke my lungs black then I have that right.”

“ _I know, Lieutenant._ It’s just so awful and selfish of me to want you to stick around for a little while longer.” The android passed him a guilt trip. It managed to cease all further complaints and neither party spoke for a few moments. Connor was convinced that ninety-five percent of their relationship was awkward silence, and the other five was, ‘Stop putting shit in your mouth Connor! Argh, Jesus!’

The idea made him laugh out loud a little.

“Maybe you’re right, Lieutenant. Perhaps I just need some maintenance. All machines do from time to time... I, well… I suppose I’m kind of like a car.” He nursed on the flask in contemplation and all Hank did was chuckle. The android passed his gaze over, deeming it odd behavior. 

“Yeah, Connor, haha. You’re just like a car, son.” 

_He used that word again,_ and it wrestled a smile out of the brunette.

  
  


“Say, have you spotted that Robbie guy, yet?” Hank asked, not because he was trying to spoil whatever bonding moment had just happened, but because it was almost time to head into work.

  
  


In all honesty, Connor had stopped scanning faces for the man about fifteen minutes ago. “Oh shit, I seemed to have forgotten. I’m very sorry, I’ll try and do better next time.” The word ‘shit’ was the only swear that he used regularly, and it was always entertaining to witness. Especially to Hank, because in his eyes, Connor was the type of guy to go pub crawling solely so that he could join everyone in a rendition of _Sweet Caroline._ “ _Liar._ Androids don’t forget stuff. You just got lazy, huh?”

Tucking the flask away, he smiled to hide his insolence, “I feel pretty apathetic towards it, I’ll admit.” He scratched his elbow even though he lacked the ability to feel itchy. “Well, it doesn’t matter much anyways. We have to head to the precinct in fifteen. We’ll catch him another time.” Hank shrugged. It reminded Connor of every time they would lose a deviant and his partner would just wave it off with a, ‘Eh, we’ll catch it another time! We know what it looks like!’

“With that attitude, I’m surprised you still have your badge.” The comment was slightly hypocritical but it found its way out of his mouth regardless. 

“Me too. I really thought that punching Perkins was gonna be the final straw, haha. It was a good thing you androids got your rights because now I’m not an asshole anymore, I’m just ‘ahead of my time’.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The duo had pretty much expected a sermon from Fowler. They had not anticipated though, having to endure it with the same guy that had gotten them kicked from the diner on Farmington in the first place. Jeffrey absolutely despised dealing with the three of them at once, so something about his decision to call them all into his little glass box of torture did not rest easy with Hank. Sweating intensely again, the Captain was barking insults out from behind his desk. Connor’s heat receptors could tell that the office was approximately seventy degrees, so there was no broken AC to blame this time. _He was so infuriated he was sweating._

Gavin leaned against the wall, arms crossed and obviously lackadaisical about the situation. It was so unlike the aggression he had worn openly just last night. His eyes were swollen and a grotesque violet had infringed upon the eyelids. The skin was delicate there and the blackened areas made him look like the victim of a violent mugging rather than the participant of a childish, schoolyard fight. No human fists could have left a mark like that and his nose was no better off. It was like a balloon animal had just decided to live on his face. 

Hank was yet again seated in the stupid accountant’s chair and staring ahead with indignation hidden in his grip. It was pretty ironic that the fifty-three year old man was the one who had walked out of the fight unscathed but it was starting to become pretty typical. After all, he had managed to keep up with an android doing parkour over rooftops long enough to get himself in trouble, and could still hold himself in combat. Stranger things had happened.

Connor stood rather stiffly beside Hank, his lame arm tethered closely to his abdomen via the dumb, blue sling. He seemed a bit spaced out in comparison to the other men in the room.

“I expected this crap from Hank but not from you Gavin! The last thing I need is another loose canon cop on my fucking force! And don’t even get me started on you Connor, you’re a goddamn android; you’re supposed to hold yourself to a higher standard than this bullshit!” 

“But I-”

“Shut up!”

Steam was basically flying out of his ears, cartoon style. The mental image almost made Anderson want to crack a smile, but literally everything else countered that so he remained pissy. Hank had gone to school with Jeffrey Fowler, the man had been there for him when Cole passed. They used to be friends and maybe one day they would again, but today it was taking all of Hank’s energy not to throw a punch at him. 

Gavin grimaced at the remark while Connor just sort of stared ahead blankly. The guy could put on a good poker face if he had too, but internally things were a little less stable. He was always swinging wildly between having a superiority complex and feeling like everything he did was insufficient. This lecture was only feeding into that. Perhaps that’s why he constantly mocked Gavin for reflecting those feelings of inferiority. 

“Oh fuck that Jeffrey! You know damn well that this only happened because Gavin goddamn Reed doesn’t know when to shuddup! The kid was only defending himself, look at what the asshole did to his arm!” The Lieutenant shouted defensively, pointing a finger at Connor’s inoperative limb. “He can’t even move it!”

Captain Fowler only gritted his teeth and released a large, breathy sigh. “What he did to ‘the kid’? The fuck do you mean, Hank! He can’t even feel pain, Reed looks like a battered woman!”

Gavin only hissed a small, “Fuck you.” under his breath, so faint that nobody took notice. 

“C’mon! Black eyes? Broken nose? That’ll all heal on its own! Androids can’t just heal like that, Jefferey! He’s gonna have to go and pay the money to get that repaired!” 

The bruised detective only rolled his eyes, finally shifting away from his lax position. “You know what? I’ll pay out of my own damn pocket for the repairs if you let me leave this shit show. I’ve got actual work to do and I can’t just sit around while Lieutenant Anderson belly-aches over his estranged robot son, kay?”

Connor turned his head toward Gavin and tilted it to the left just an inch. His LED broke apart into yellow for a half-second while he computed a reply. Hank gave him a warning glance because he knew that look. 

“Uhm, Detective Reed…? I apologize in advance for the way this might sound.”

_Shit._

“My intention isn’t to offend you or otherwise come off as arrogant-”

_Yes, it is._

“-but I’m worth a small fortune and I’m not sure if your income could support a large purchase like that. Maybe you should let your insurance company handle it?”

Hank’s dirty look only deepened into that of a scolding one. “ _Connor…_ ”

Surprisingly enough, Reed managed to keep his cool, partly due to the fact he didn’t want his reprimand to be any worse than it already was. “You’re poor-shaming me now?”

“We get paid the same salary, Detective. That's ridiculous and I would never.” Connor decided that he needed a drink and pulled out the Clorox once again. He had ditched the flask due to a recommendation from Lieutenant Anderson, and instead poured the rest into a water bottle with ‘Speramus Meliora; Resurget Cineribus.’ printed on the side. It was Detroit’s motto, roughly translating to ‘We hope for better things; it shall arise from the ashes.’

“I didn’t know androids could drink.” Gavin snorted with a little cynicism. “What is it, antifreeze?”

“It’s bleach, would you like a sip?”

“Fuck you!”

Fowler was silent and everybody found it rather unnerving. His fingers were pressed together and he was leaning back into his rolly chair with a contemplative gaze. “I’ve decided what I’m going to do with you shitheads.” 

Connor and Reed turned to him attentively and Hank sort of just rested his head against his hand in disinterest.

“Anderson, welcome your newest team member! From now on you guys are the _Three Musketeers._ You’ll work together, you’ll eat together, and you’ll damn well solve this case together!’

Connor considered mentioning that working together pretty much included solving the investigation, but he was too much in shock.

The unholy string of cursing that unfolded next was one for the books.


	5. A Little Less Team Free Will and a Little More Team Fuck Off.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry that this one is way short than usual. I thought that some content is better than none though. I've already started on the next part, I'm just trying to figure out how I want the dynamic of these characters to play out.

It was five A.M and the supermarket was eerily silent.

The cashier glanced up from her magazine as a patron waltzed through the doors. It pulled a frown out of her. _It was too damn early._

His DPD regulation shoes clacked against the red and white checkered tiles, before halting in the snack cake aisle. Connor was hoping that if he could find a good peace-offering for Gavin Reed, then he might not feel as compelled to run his stupid, dumb mouth all day. His eyes scanned the shelves for something chocolate-based, because it was notorious for producing dopamine.

Logically, if Gavin’s brain started producing more dopamine then he would be happier. If he was happier then he would bitch less. The perfect plan.

_A bag of Lindor or a bag of Ghiradelli?_

The decision was tough and Connor wasn’t exactly sure which brand people preferred. He assumed that since they were both more expensive than that meant they were automatically better. Maybe he would get both since the bags were so light. Flipping them over he read the nutritional facts. It was just as he thought.

The amount of sugar they possessed was definitely more than the recommended daily intake. Splurging wasn’t bad on occasion but it could bleed into bad dietary habits and potentially lead to cardiovascular disease in Gavin’s future. Connor smiled and yanked them off the shelf. _The perfect plan._ He was in it for the long con.

**_Gavin was to trash as Connor was to a garbage disposal._ **

He had begun making his way to the register when his cell phone rang.

_“I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch, oh the bitch is back! And stone cold sober as a matter of fact! I can bitch, I can bitch, because I’m better than you! It’s the way that I move, it’s the things that I do!”_

The clerk a few feet away sighed in annoyance and tried to ignore him.

Connor pulled his phone out to check the caller I.D and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Hank. He answered, “Good morning Lieutenant! It’s very unlike you to be awake at this hour, is something the matter?”

“The ‘matter’ is that I got up to take a piss and you’re fucking gone! You can’t just leave without telling anybody where you’re going, you know. Not when there’s an android serial killer running around out there. Where the hell are you?!” His voice was groggy with sleep and from the sound of the coffee-maker brewing, it was obvious that he was in the kitchen.

“I apologize for alarming you Lieutenant Anderson, but I am currently at the grocery store.”

“You’re shopping? At five in the goddamn morning…?”

“No, I was just buying a gift for Detective Reed. Although if you want, then I can pick up some essentials. We were running out of oven cleaner anyways and-”

“No, no… It’s fine I just… Wait a second…” Hank broke off mid-sentence. “You’re buying something for Reed..? Gross. Don’t waste your money on that asshole. Go buy some oil or kerosene or whatever it is that you chug.”

“Well, I was actually going to drink the oven cleaner but I digress. The gift is more of a peace-offering if you will. Tell me Lieutenant, do you prefer _Lindor_ or _Ghiradelli?_ ” Connor asked, studying the two bags again.

“Chocolate. You’re seriously getting him chocolate? At least make it the shitty stuff if you do, cause then it’ll look like you’re trying too hard. Either that or you’re flirting.” Hank retorted. It sounded like he was eating something on the other end of the line. Probably a bagel. Connor knew that Hank was hiding a bag somewhere around the house.

“ _Oh…_ ” The android frowned slightly before turning his heel and heading back the opposite direction. “Well, then what should I get him?”

“A sturdy rope and a wobbly chair?”

“Lieutenant, you’re terrible!”

“It’s early, cut me some slack.”

He stood back in front of the candy selections and tapped his foot in contemplation. “You can’t just say things like that. Waking up early doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole.”

Anderson snorted, “Well then what does? Being an android? Cause you’re pretty good at it.”

Connor’s frown deepened and he chose to ignore the remark, “What kind of confectionary item is appropriate for this situation, Lieutenant? This decision may very well affect the course of our day regarding Detective Reed.”

“Oh yeah, uhhh… How about a candy bar, like a Twix or something. Pfft, or a Snickers. Maybe Gavin’s secretly a great guy but just not himself when he’s hungry.”

“I seriously doubt that’s the case…”

“You’ve never seen the commercial? Nevermind-”

They chit-chatted idly for a few more minutes before saying their goodbyes and hanging up.

Connor ended up grabbing both candy bars just to up that calorie count a bit. He sat his purchases at the very end of the conveyor belt even though he only had two items. An awkward silence passed between him and the lady at the register. He took the opportunity to scan her face.

**_Anya Buchannon_ **

**_Twenty-six years old._ **

**_Criminal Record:Speeding, DUI._ **

Fairly average.

“So what exactly does an android need chocolate for?” She broke the quiet with a little small talk. The woman still seemed pretty crabby but after a quick glance at her it was obvious that she was sleep deprived. “It’s a gift for somebody.”

She huffed slightly with an amused undertone. “For who, a girl?” The thought made Connor feel out of place. The mere concept of a romantic relationship seemed foreign and far-off to him. In his mind, he had little to offer another android, or even a human for that matter. Connor didn’t fit in particularly well with either crowd.

To his own kind he was somewhat of a controversial figure. A deviant hunter with a redemption arc that many refused to buy into. To the humans he was just extremely odd, and potentially even dangerous.

“No. It’s actually for my arch-nemesis.” Connor grinned at the irony of it all. “I’m hoping that if I start to buy him gratuitous amounts of candy then he’ll eventually get heart disease and die.”

It was supposed to be a joke (well kind of) but no laughter erupted regardless. Maybe she just wasn’t into dark comedy.

Or maybe Connor was just really bad at being funny. He hoped that it wasn’t the latter but sometimes he genuinely thought that was the case. Hank often claimed that he had gotten the whole ‘sarcasm thing’ down which was encouraging. The only problem is that now every time he tried to deliver a joke he did it with a straight face. Connor would try to work on it harder.

The woman stopped scanning for a minute and glanced at him with an indiscernible expression. He was normally good at reading faces, but this time he couldn't tell whether or not she was amused, horrified, or simply too exhausted to emote.

“Well that’s the first time I’ve ever heard somebody use ‘arch-nemesis’ unironically. He must be a pretty big shithead for you to plan that out.”

Connor eventually settled on ‘too exhausted to emote.’


	6. Avengers: Age of Fuck You.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another short one! I just want to keep putting them out somewhat consistently.

The scent of coffee floated through the precinct air, aromatic and strong. Hank seemed to notice this upon arrival and grabbed a mug before even bothering to situate himself. He figured that he would probably need it. Especially since he had been trying to cut out bourbon.

Connor had gone straight to his desk to sign into the terminal, but stopped in his tracks when he spotted Gavin Reed sitting at the cubicle beside him. He suppressed a grimace and offered the detective his best ‘people person’ smile. “Good morning Detective, how are you? The whole hardened, ‘I was the victim of a mugging’ look really suits you.”

His black eye was still a monstrosity to look at, all swollen and grotesque. A quick once over was all it took for Connor to discern that Reed also hadn’t slept last night. His mind wandered back to the woman at the store and he frowned. He wasn’t sure why humans insisted on punishing their bodies this way. 

“Thanks, I’m just fucking peachy.” He grumbled, heavy eyes gazing back at the android with scrutiny. It was obvious that he was considering how much trouble he might get in if he decided to punch Connor in the face. Either that, or break his other arm. 

“I’m so glad to hear that, Detective.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.”

Hank had come trudging back to the bullpen, instantly making a bitch face when he noticed Gavin. “Ah shit, we have to sit with this asshole too?” 

On an average day, Gavin would have a smartass reply but today he was too drowsy to formulate one, so he stuck it to Hank with a good old fashioned insult about time constraints.

“Can we just talk about the case already? Or do you two always sit around wasting everybody’s damn time?”

“Slow your roll prick, we just got here.” Hank plopped down into his swivel chair and took a swig of his kona blend. Connor pulled the case files out of his bag, “So did Fowler already summarize everything about the last two victims for you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Dead androids. Weird analogies and shit. Could give less of a damn.” 

“Fantastic.”

“Yeah.”

Anderson’s eyes darted between the both of them from the brim of his mug. He already knew that today was going to be shitty but what he didn’t count on was it being awkward. The air that shrouded the three of them was wooden and stilted. If it wasn’t for the chatter and white noise that their colleagues were producing, it might have been much worse. 

“So did you guys ever question that one guy from the diner? Robert, Ray, erm…” Gavin snapped his fingers in an attempt to refresh his memory. Another strange thing that Connor had noticed humans do. It was impossible for him to forget details though, so who was he to say that it didn’t work. 

“Robbie. The chick called him Robbie.” Hank said, “And no, we never got the chance. He didn’t come into work that morning. We also can’t go back now, because a certain asshole who’s name starts with ‘G’ and ends with ‘avin’ got us kicked out.”

“Oh, screw off! You were asking for trouble by fucking with me.”

Connor interjected, “That’s the textbook definition of gaslighting. Clearly you were the one who approached us first and-”  
Gavin huffed and threw a pen at the android’s face. It landed onto his lap and Connor looked comically offended by the attack. Even if it was mainly on his pride. In retaliation, he grabbed a box of paper clips and tossed them back fast enough that Gavin couldn’t dodge. The clasp broke and a thousand multi-colored clips spilled out all over the floor. Gavin snarled, rising to his feet. “I won’t resist fucking your bitch ass up if-!”

“Shuddup! The both of you! Keep your goddamn voices down! You want Fowler to hear?” Hank whispered harshly. “And Connor!”

Connor rolled his eyes so hard that he was pretty sure he’d disconnected his optical units. Seriously, if he had a dime for everytime he’d had to listen to, “Connor!” in that pissed off tone then he would pay somebody to get rid of Gavin Reed for him.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Pick all those paper clips up, dammit! What are you five? Stop making fucking messes!” He scolded.

The android sighed and began picking them up and placing them back into the container. 

“He provoked me.”

Gavin snickered.

“And you! Keep your mouth shut too or I’ll black out your other eye. I might be old but I’m sure as hell not too old to beat some arrogant, four foot whatever, into the ground, got it?”  
Connor laughed shortly at that comment but let it fade off into clumsy silence when he noticed the disapproving eyes of the Lieutenant resting on him. 

“Yeah, uhm? How about fuck you Hank!” Detective Reed raised an eyebrow, almost like it was a suggestion rather than an insult. “Retire already and give your rank to somebody who deserves it! You know, somebody that worked to get where they are instead of just being made to do it.”

Anderson didn’t give him the satisfaction, “How about we just talk about the case already, Gavin? Or do you always sit around wasting everybody’s time?” He threw the words back at him and all bickering ceased. 

“Whatever…”

“Yes, Lieutenant…”

Connor sat the box of paper clips back on the desk and returned to his seat. “Well, do you have any ideas of where we should go from here?”

“Let’s go undercover. See if we can get in contact with anybody in the ring. Maybe our killer sells and buys. We haven’t gotten the official autopsy for Heather back yet but we know that he likes to dismember em’. Not to mention, the first victim was missing eyes and arms and all kinds of other shit.”

Gavin crossed his arms and considered the possibility. It wouldn’t be the first time something like this had occurred, “Eh, maybe you’re right…” He stood up and slipped the brown leather jacket over his shoulders, heading towards the door. His exit had been abrupt, which left the other two sitting in confusion.

“What..? We don’t have all day.”

Gavin's impatience made Connor's eye involuntarily twitch. A strange and new tick that he wasn't accustomed too. "Wait, Detective. I have a gift for you." He stated, formally and dry. Bending down, he pulled the candy out of his bag and held it up for the other man to grab.

"You got me candy...?" A wave of something hard to identify glossed over his features. "You're way fucking dumber than I thought." Reed spat, finally deciding that he was going to be bitchy instead. He trashed the sentiment on his way out.


	7. An Ascott, a Talking Dog, and a Stoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! I am so, so sorry that I haven't updated in forever! I am also so, so sorry that this chapter is also short and sucky! Things in my life have been kind of inconvenient lately from a mental health perspective and I haven't really been able to garner the motivation to update anything! I certainly have not given up though! I do plan on finishing this, quite possibly if it's the only thing I ever finish in my life haha.

The air was humid and thick today. Rain sprinkled down faintly but was only an omen for the storm to come later on.

“I call shotgun.” Reed sounded off as the trio approached the parking garage. His demand was met with a swift, “Hell no.” from the Lieutenant. In retrospect, it seemed daft of Gavin to want to sit in the front with Hank when considering their strong dislike for one another. It was a lot less about sitting with Hank though, and a lot more about forcing Connor to sit in the back. 

Everything was just a power balance thing with him.

Gavin sighed as he opened the car door, realizing how trashed up the backseat was. “You’re a goddamn pig, Anderson.” He grimaced as he pushed stray wrappers and styrofoam cups off into the floor. Connor snorted in spite of himself as he bent down to seat himself inside the vehicle. 

“Oh, quit your bitching. My maids on vacation.”

“I never get a vacation.” The android jested dryly before flicking the radio on. The station was 94.3 and they only played oldies. Call Me by Blondie started to reverberate throughout the speakers, causing Hank to huff. “If you never get a vacation, then why is everything always so goddamn filthy?”

“Your ability to make a mess is indomitable and greatly surpasses the speed at which I can pick up after you. Besides, you said it yourself. You’re a grown man, right? Last time I checked, adults were capable of tidying up after themselves.” The tallest brunette chided some.

They had barely got moving and Gavin Reed was already wondering if this is what hell is like. Stuck in the backseat of a repulsive car, while the two biggest fuck-up detectives in the precinct argue endlessly about chores. Perhaps he would start going to church after this so that eternity wasn’t too awful for him. 

After about thirty minutes in, and various classics later, everyone was pretty quiet. The rain was coming in harder. 

“So, uhm…” Gavin cleared his throat awkwardly, “How do you have all these contacts with sketchy people?” He questioned. Why in the world he was trying to initiate small-talk right now, was beyond him. “Under-cover work mainly. You bust enough assholes and you eventually start hearing the same names thrown around.”

“Are you sure it has nothing to do with the questionable company you keep, Lieutenant?” Connor suggested through squinted eyes, mainly in reference to his gambling companion Pedro. 

Hank rolled his stare, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “I definitely don’t got android murdering friends, kay?” He didn’t seem offended by the notion by any means, just more or less tired to a degree.

When they arrived, it was still dreary. Hank opened the door of his Buick and stepped out onto the wet gravel. His ‘team’ followed awkwardly behind. “This is kind of like that television show.” Connor said for no obvious reason and without elaboration.

“What show?” Gavin shot back with an oddly intrigued glance. Quickly he averted his eyes to the downcast in the sky. “That one show where they solve mysteries, Detective. We’re a rag tag group of misfits that resolve conundrums. I can be the gentleman with the ascott, the Lieutenant can be the marijuana enthusiast, and you can be the personified dog. It would surely make you more likeable if you were a dog.”

Gavin had no idea what in the fuck Connor was talking about, but he recognized an insult in there somewhere. Suddenly and all at once it occurred to him. 

Scooby Doo

“I am not the dog, dammit…!” He spoke decidedly. It was unclear to even himself why he was suddenly so passionate about this but he would be damned before he let Connor be Fred.On the other side, Hank Anderson was pacing beside them with an exasperated sigh. Frustration apparent.

“Alright Velma and Daphne, why don’t you both shut your traps?.” The Lieutenant remarked with a cantankerous side eye. 

“Oh! So you have seen the show?” Connor said with a little grin.

“Agh, Jesus kid. Everybody has seen the show!”

Detective Reed was offended to the point that he was tinged with crimson from cheek to cheek. Just another expression of his toxic masculinity. Connor felt in no way concerned with being compared to a woman, as long as he got to be Velma. She was pretty and intelligent and would probably also hate Gavin Reed, which he found a definitive win. 

The guy that Anderson had suggested they go see was extremely shady in demeanor. The way that he moved made it seem evident that he had a lot to hide. Due to this, the android stayed alert and tensed in stance. Instantly the criminal glanced up at them and wiped his hands off on his jeans. There were traces of thirium on his hands and Connor pulled a slight frown. Sometimes he regretted still having an LED implanted in his temple, and other times he was relieved for it. It was easier for the Lieutenant to understand how his mind was working without any actual words being spoken. 

In this particular instance though it made him feel naked and exposed. Like a big, blue target that said, ‘Hey! See me! I am an android! Scrap me for parts please!’

“Howdy fellas!” The guy greeted, “Name is Bolt. You here to see me about android repairs?”

His face was amicable and by this point it was pretty obvious he was bad at doing crime. He disguised himself as an A.I mechanic by day and likely reaped for parts by night. Like a cartoon villain. 

Gavin went to open his mouth but was quickly pushed aside by Hank. He was the highest rank in this operation and obviously planned on doing all the talking. 

“No, uhh… We’re actually here because we heard from a guy that you could help us with a little predicament we're having…” It was unclear how Anderson planned on smuggling information out of this guy without causing a ruckus but Connor had faith.


End file.
